


Unexpected

by bendingwind



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-15
Updated: 2011-07-15
Packaged: 2017-10-21 10:29:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/224173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bendingwind/pseuds/bendingwind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rory Williams had a plan for his life. Also, Happy Father's Day.</p><p>Inspired by shadow243ali's ficathon prompt: River + Rory, their father/daughter bonding time initially consists of him teaching her how to swing a sword like a Roman from Leadworth. It only gets stranger from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unexpected

Rory Williams had a plan for his life. It was a nice plan, in which he married Amy Pond, he grew up to be a doctor (a real one, not a raggedy one with a blue cardboard box that travelled through time) and as many children as he could safely convince Amy to have. They’d live in a nice house in Upper Leadworth and go to plays in town and have a wide circle of friends and neighbors. It took him about a month to realize that Amy Pond was not going to stand for any of that.

Even so, he never quite expected that at twenty-five years old, most of his mornings would start with him trying to convince his angry-eyed daughter to come out from under her bed and go to school.

“I don’t want to,” she informs him imperiously. He can’t entirely see her and doesn’t particularly care to know how exactly she can fit in such a narrow space. “They make fun of me when I answer questions and tell me I’m wrong. I _know_ that light deceleration is the most efficient method of data storage, and their stupid computers are too slow! But they won’t let me bring in the one I built.”

Rory sighs and rests his head against the side of the bed.

“And besides, they’re no good at fighting. I can knock that bully Rupert down with one punch. It’s stupid and they’re stupid and school is stupid and I don’t want to go!”

“Alright,” Rory gives in. Amy will kill him later, but right now she’s at work and, honestly, he understands why River doesn’t want to go to school. “I’ll be right back, I’m going to call in to work so I can stay home with you.” He leaves and after a bit of very convincing rasping and a dash of fake coughs on the phone, he returns. She’s crawled out from under the bed and sits on the window seat, her legs curled up against her chest as she glares distrustfully at him.

He was prepared for constant crying late into the night, changing nappies and being vomited on. He was not prepared for a nine-year-old girl convinced the world had it out for her, and he finds himself at a complete loss for how to fix this particular hurt.

Slowly, he asks her, “You like to shoot guns, right?”

She uncurls a little as she answers. “Mum said I couldn’t have a gun because the government here doesn’t like them and won’t let anyone have them.”

“She’s right, we can’t get you a gun… but maybe I could teach you to use a sword? Erm, would that be okay? I think it might make you feel safer…” At the suggestion, she uncurls completely. There is still distrust in her eyes, and a little bit of fear.

“Okay,” she answers.

“You’ll have to start the way I did,” he says, moving slowly towards her. He learned on the first day that she would attack anyone who moved too quickly. “I think I can borrow some tools from Mr Evans next door, and we’ll make some wooden swords to practice with. If you get good enough, I’ll have a real one made for you.”

“Okay.” She hops off the window and, to his surprise, takes his hand as she guides him out of her bedroom.

* * *

Rory Williams had a plan for his life, but he never dreamed it would be as wonderful as it turned out. He planned to die somewhere in his mid-eighties, surrounded by children and grandchildren and hopefully a silver-haired Amy.

All he has is his one daughter, curly-haired and blonde now, and he would never wish for anything else. She’s holding his hand and crying.

“I love you, Dad,” she says. “Thank you… thank you for everything. Thank you for being willing to teach a strange little girl to fight with a short sword. Thank you for loving me when I wasn’t lovable.”

He smiles and grips her hand. “No, beautiful,” he says. His voice is raspy now with age. “Thank you for being my daughter.”


End file.
